


Empty

by spiritboards



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M, Pining, eventual NSFW, i just want someone to be sweet to arthur okay, lots of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 20:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritboards/pseuds/spiritboards
Summary: Arthur latches on to the first person who really shows him kindness. Takes place during the events of the film.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Fleck/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in a very long time and this isn't quite my normal style (I personally like to keep reader-insert stuff more ambiguous but this is straight up self-insert, LOL. I also usually try to use they/them pronouns in general but fuck it, whatever) but it's been really fun to write. Title is taken from the song Empty by Garbage btw, because it's a Mood, since I literally have not been able to stop thinking about Arthur Fleck since seeing the movie. :'D

Arthur had been trying not to stare. He'd been willing himself to try and act casual ever since she'd mentioned bringing over dinner. She had been the one to suggest it, and it took all the discipline in the world to keep from pinching himself right then and there. Of course he'd agreed, and of course he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. 

She had completely thrown him off guard. All he did was respond to one of the guys at Ha-Ha's when they asked what he was doing after work. He knew they didn't really care, and they were just making fun of him. But it was easier to play it off with kindness rather than resentment, so he'd answered honestly. He was going home to make dinner for his mother, he'd said, and then thought about how he'd meant to pick up groceries the day before and wasn't quite sure what to make. He hadn't registered that he'd said it out loud until he heard a small voice to the left of him. 

"Do you like roast chicken by any chance?" He looked over to find a tiny, curly haired clown, wiping her makeup off in front of the mirror. 

"Who doesn't?" He hadn't quite known what to say. Was she genuinely asking or was this her way of egging the others on? No, they might've only spoken a few times since she'd started working there but she always seemed genuine. Like Gary, she was one of the few who were actually nice to him. And he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit he'd already thought about what it might be like to kiss her. 

"Vegetarians, probably." 

_ What? _ It took him a second to get the joke and then he burst out in a fit of nervous laughter, making her crack a smile.

"I have a bunch of leftovers," she added, and he noticed the way her face seemed to light up when she casually mentioned _she had leftovers from dinner the night before_, and _oh, it was really no trouble at all_ because _she lived alone_ and _it was much too much for her to finish all by herself anyway_ and _was 7pm okay_ and _where did he live?_ He felt like he might burst.

Arthur didn't think he'd ever had anyone show him so much kindness at once, never mind a person he barely knew, and his heart ached at the thought. _Don't think about it too much, don't make things up and jinx yourself like you always do_, he tried to will his mind to calm down. He was so worried he might never get another chance like this and if he ruined it, he didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive himself. 

But here she was, sitting next to him on the worn couch in his mother's dingy apartment, Penny Fleck seated in her usual chair next to them, both seemingly oblivious to how strange he felt as they sat eating leftover roast chicken and vegetables in front of the TV. It felt dreamlike. She wasn't even put off by him sharing an apartment with his mother, something that seemed sure to deter most others, on those rare occasions when he did get far enough to mention it. 

He kept telling himself to stop staring at her profile and pay attention to whatever goofy family sitcom they'd settled on but he never did seem to have very much willpower, at least not against himself. She didn't seem to mind though, or at the very least she was a skilled actor at covering it up. The few times she'd caught him looking at her she just gave him the sweetest smile and shyly looked back at her plate. Or was he imagining it?

They finished eating as the program played before them, not saying much, but for once the silence felt comfortable. Arthur helped his mother to bed afterwards and when he returned he found his guest doing the dishes. 

"You cooked and brought it over and now you wanna clean up too? Someone's an over achiever." He grabbed the last plate from her as she finished drying it and put it on the stack in the cabinet above. She was so small, she couldn't have reached anyway, but she shot him a look of fake disappointment before smiling again. She has such a lovely smile, he thought, and what an honor it was to be the cause of it. 

He grabbed the other dry dishes and started putting them away in the proper places. "Really though, you didn't have to do that. You didn't have to do... any of this."

"I know," she backed up, drying her hands off and leaning against the counter, watching him place cutlery in a drawer. "I wanted to. And not just because I needed an excuse to get rid of food before it went bad, I swear." 

Arthur stuck the last fork in the drawer and turned to face her. He couldn't quite read the expression on her face. 

"Don't take this the wrong way, okay?" she started, and his mind began to race. He thought the evening had gone well but was he wrong? Had he accidentally done something? Was he reading into everything too much?

"I just moved here, and it's kinda scary if I'm being honest, and... well, what I'm trying to say is, I need a _friend_, and when we met I could kinda tell that you needed a friend too." 

That was not what he had expected at all. Once again she surprised him, and it was his face that lit up this time. "Why would I _ever_ be offended that you want to be _my friend_?" 

_Friend_. He didn't have many people he considered friends, and even less who considered him one back. He supposed she was right, he did need a friend, and was already proud to call her one of his. Even if it just stayed that way. Arthur thought he felt actually happy for the first time in a long time and he wasn't about to just let that go. And the smile that spread across her face was worth absolutely everything to him, so he returned it with one of his own. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some background and previous interactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I keep switching tenses and perspectives, don't @ me, I'm having a good time lmao.

She'd noticed him her very first day at Ha-Ha's. He was the only man there who didn't seem to look down on her. Besides the dozens of "_You sure you're not here to audition to be a stripper?_" comments, the others acted as if she were somehow not as good at her job just because she wasn't a man. She knew she was just as funny, if not_ funnier_, than most of them, and much better at makeup to boot. She was already sick of them calling her "_baby_." But she knew better than to argue, best to just keep her head down so as not to attract even more unwanted attention. 

Arthur had introduced himself that very first day, after holding the door open for her on her way in. 

"Hey, New Kid, you better watch out for Artie, he's a bit of a _weirdo_," jeered one of the other employees, which made her scowl. Arthur had just rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. She shot him a sympathetic look and introduced herself in return. And that had been their first interaction. 

She found herself making excuses to talk to him again. Probably because she could tell he was just as much of an outsider as she was. She'd always been a bit of a misfit herself and she didn't see what the big deal was anyway. 

From the very first time she witnessed one of his fits, saw the pain and embarrassment in his eyes, all she felt was concern. He scared the others because they didn't understand him, and they were all the type who don't care to empathize with anyone they don't understand. Quite frankly, it disgusted her. She would've gone over and held him that first time if she wasn't worried he'd be offended. She didn't want him to think she was only doing it because she pitied him. 

She watched from across the room as he did his makeup in the mirror. Walking quickly past the group of men playing strip poker in the middle of the room (they'd already catcalled and invited her to play several times, despite her many protests) she snuck up behind him. Not necessarily meaning to sneak, but he was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice her until she tapped him gently on the shoulder.

He looked over, surprised. 

"Sorry to bother you but... I forgot my blue paint at home and I think you have the exact same stuff I normally use,"

A smile crept onto Arthur's face as he reached over to grab the blue makeup. "Oh, sure, here you go," he replied, holding out the container and a brush.

She said thank you and grabbed a chair, pulling it up beside his at the mirror. He figured she would just take the makeup and walk away, maybe even forget to bring it back, and that would be okay. He wouldn't mind because he was used to it. But she seemed to actually want to stay around him.

She painted her face and thanked him again, handing the tools back and leaving just as suddenly as she'd appeared. 

"Oooooh, what was all that about, Art?" the others teased. But he thought about the interaction all day, the careful way she'd painted above and below her eyes, blue makeup much like his own. 

She'd greet him every time she saw him and he'd have to hold back just how excited he really was, every time. 

_Don't overthink it, don't ruin it,_ he'd chant to himself. But no matter how much he ended up thinking about her (_he couldn't help it, couldn't stop himself_), thinking about the small but kind gestures they shared, she didn't seem to be deterred or put off. 

And then she'd brought him and his mother dinner, and all that night after she'd left, he found himself worrying it had all really been a dream. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cue stalking.

He knew he shouldn't be following her home. He knew if she saw him it and took it the wrong way that it could potentially screw up everything. But he wanted to know what she was like when she thought she was alone. 

Arthur kept his hood up, peeking around corners and trying to look inconspicuous, but as per usual, no one seemed to pay him any mind. She didn't notice him watching her as she opened the door to the apartment building and made her way inside. He followed suit, the door to the hallway was broken and by the state of the rest of the entryway, it had been for quite some time. He found her name on the mailbox, running his fingers over the label delicately. She was in one of the two apartments on the bottom floor. 

Arthur made his way to the back of the building through an alley filled with garbage cans and discarded furniture and spotted her through one of the windows, the curtains parted just enough to give him a glimpse into her private life. 

She had changed into a black lace nightgown and her hair was down, a mass of dark curls cascading past her shoulders. A large tabby cat stood on a table and she bent over to kiss its head. He'd never seen her like this before and it felt so strangely intimate, like watching her through a camera lens. It felt _wrong_, was what the voice in the back of his mind kept insisting. But it really..._didn't_. There was a part of him that knew he should feel guilty, but he was enjoying himself too much. 

People were so different when they thought no one was watching. They weren't as performative without outside influences. They did what they really wanted, were their true selves. Arthur knew all about that.

He moved closer, desperate to take in whatever he could. He carefully positioned himself so that the curtain was hiding him from view and noticed music coming from a record player on the other side of the room. As he listened he could hear her singing along. 

__Once I had a love and it was divine  
Soon found out I was losing my mind  
It seemed like the real thing but I was so blind  
Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind

She appeared to be dancing as well, serenading the cat, punctuating certain lyrics with soft pets and touches, poking the cat in the nose gently as it looked at her with love in its eyes. He heard a timer beep and she walked quickly to the other room, which appeared to be the kitchen. 

She came back into view a few moments later with two plates, one for herself and another much smaller one for the fat cat, who ran right over as she placed it on the floor in front of him. 

Arthur was pleasantly surprised to find that she seemed just as kind and genuine when alone, maybe even more so. He hadn't really doubted her so much as he constantly worried everything was too good to be true. Arthur never seemed to have anything good for very long. But seeing for himself that she wasn't just putting on an act in front of him came as a great relief. 

He slowly crept back from the window, making his way back to his mother's apartment, thinking about the way she had smiled at the cat and the way her singing voice had sounded, humming to himself.

__In between  
What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine  
Love is so confusing there's no peace of mind  
If I fear I'm losing you it's just no good  
You teasing like you do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had the song as Call Me, just because that's what I was listening to when I wrote this chapter, but I thought Heart of Glass would be more fitting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take care of him and protect him, okay? It's what he DESERVES.

The small, one bedroom apartment looked much different on the inside, he thought. 

There was an old green couch, which he was currently sat upon, an old television set boxed in by two shelves that held records and were covered in knickknacks (including _lots_ of porcelain clowns), and browning floral wallpaper that was mostly covered up by posters and other miscellaneous artwork. The rug on the dark, scratched hardwood floor was stained and dirty, but it felt cozy. Books and miscellaneous clutter were piled everywhere but it looked like it was meant to be there. It was nicer than his mother's place but only marginally. An organized mess. _A place for everything and everything in its place_, he thought to himself.

A Bowie record played softly in the background. 

The cat sat right up against him purring loudly, and Arthur scratched under its chin. She came out with a plate of brownies, setting it on the coffee table in front of him and giggled.

"He normally doesn't warm up to people this fast, ever." She pointed at the cat, who would not let Arthur stop petting him even if he tried. His hand was getting a little tired but he didn't mind. She grabbed a brownie from the plate and sat perched on the arm of the couch closest to him. The cat was taking up most of the room. 

"Really? He seems like one of the friendliest cats I've ever met."

"I mean _yeah_, but it normally takes at least a few visits before he's at the point where he's willing to sit practically on top of you. Actually he mostly only does that with _me_." Arthur couldn't help but feel a little bit of pride. He smiled smugly and took a brownie, careful not to drop any crumbs as the cat headbutted his hand. He adjusted his position on the couch and winced a little, injuries still healing from his incident with those teens the other day. 

"You okay, Arthur? I heard what happened," she put a gentle yet firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. 

"Oh, it was nothing. Just some kids," he tried to brush it off.

"Doesn't matter that they were kids, they should still know better. It's_ awful_." He appreciated her concern more than he could express but at the same time, he wasn't used to it. And she sounded angry.

"I just wish I could've been there or something. I dunno. I'm sorry, we don't hafta talk about it if you don't want to."

He wondered if he should tell her about Randall's gun but decided against it. Didn't want to worry her any more. 

Arthur was hyper-aware of the fact that they were sitting so close they were touching. 

_ Don't think too much of it, its a small couch, it doesn't mean anything.  _

But it felt so foreign that it almost burned his skin under his clothes, and yet he wanted more. No, he didn't just _want_ it, he _needed_ it. He felt like he might die without it. 

They'd been sitting that way for hours, watching TV, talking and laughing. It was getting late, and she looked sleepy, and he wondered if he was overstaying his welcome. Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt something warm on his hand. He glanced down and saw she had gently placed her hand on top of his. She was so warm, it felt like touching a stove. 

"You're freezing," she commented, intertwining her fingers with his. 

"S..Sorry," he stuttered, and she looked taken aback.

"I don't mind." She held his hand between both of hers now, softly squeezing and rubbing in an effort to warm him up. She brought his hand up to her lips and gently blew warm air between their hands. He felt a fit of laughter coming on and jolted his hands away, covering his mouth in a useless effort to stop it, worried he'd offended her.

"_I'm sorry.... I'm sorry_," he managed to say between giggles and sobs. 

"No, no... _shhh_." She hushed him and moved so she was kneeling beside him on the couch, giving him all her attention, and took his face in her hands. He tried not to look at her but she made it impossible. All he wanted to do was hide, to turn away, to make it stop, but the tears and laughter kept coming. She cradled his head in her arms and reached up to kiss his forehead. "Don't be," she assured him. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry for."

He choked back a sob but the laughter soon died down, and she didn't let go of him until it did. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a kiss.

"I'm _so_, _so_ sorry if I made you uncomfortable, " she had started to say after he'd calmed down. He gave her a look of genuine confusion, clearing his throat.

"_What_? Not at all, I was worried I was making_ you_ uncomfortable,"

"Oh no,_ never_! I promise," she looked down at her hands shyly, still sitting very close, leaning on him a bit which he was all too aware of. He could still feel the echoes of her warmth where she had held him just a few moments earlier. 

"I thought I might've been being too ...forward."

Did he hear that right? He stared at her expression, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink, and the sudden realization swept over him that maybe, just_ maybe_, this time was different. Maybe he hadn't been reading too much into things after all. Maybe she wasn't _just_ being nice. Maybe this was all real. Like,_ really real_. 

He raised an eyebrow and his eyes lit up, a gentle smile creeping onto his face. She looked up at him through thick black lashes and grinned, reaching a hand up to turn his face toward her own. Her hands were small and soft and warm and he brought his own hand up to gently rest on top of hers, pressing her hand to his cheek so he could feel its warmth even more. 

She knelt on the couch so that her face was close to his, leaning into him as she pressed her soft lips to the corner of his mouth, as if she were still testing his limits. She felt him start to crack a smile and took that as permission to continue, turning his face fully and planting a gentle kiss square on his lips. 

Arthur felt dizzy. He let go of her hand in order to hold either side of her face, pulling her even closer, kissing back, and this time he felt her start to smile. She let out a giggle and he broke the kiss, still in disbelief that any of this was really happening. 

"Sorry, I didn't want you to stop, I just," she looked at his confused, slightly flushed face and giggled again. "I feel like I've been waiting for you to do that for the _longest_ time." 

Arthur's eyes sparkled and he leaned over to kiss her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips slightly. She tasted like coffee and waxy lipstick while he tasted like copper and stale cigarettes, but neither of them seemed to mind. She left a trail of gentle pecks as she finally pulled away, and just when he thought she was done, she tipped his face to the side and peppered the other cheek, leaving red kiss marks all over, laughing as she did. 

And he couldn't help but laugh too. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur can't stop fantasizing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, it's smut time.

Arthur was on cloud nine. He caught himself grinning every time he replayed the night over in his head. He danced his way up the apartment steps, humming to himself from the instant he entered the elevator till the moment he unlocked the door. He found his mother asleep in front of the television, gently rousing her as a soda ad played in the background. She commented on his mood and he told her he'd been on a date, causing her to scoff. _Probably too worn out to register anything_, he thought, dancing her across the room and tucking her into bed. He wasn't about to let her ruin this for him. 

He discarded his jacket on a chair and leaned back into the couch that doubled as his bed, wondering what it'd be like to have his own bed again one day, and to maybe even have someone to share it with. He had someone specific in mind.

He took a cigarette out of the pack on the table, bringing it to his lips as he lit it with a long, slow drag. The TV cast blue light and shadows all over the dark living room, flickering as images played before him. He was staring straight ahead but his mind was elsewhere. Mentally he was still back at _her_ apartment, next to her on that green couch, the smell of fresh baked brownies and patchouli incense permeating the air around them as their shared laughter filled the room. 

He thought about the color of her eyes and all the things he saw in them. He recognized things in them that he saw in himself, hidden things that no one else had ever brought out in him. He thought about the way she smelled, and the way she had tasted, but more importantly about the way she had felt. Her proximity was foreign at first. He wasn't used to being touched, at least not so tenderly, but it felt strangely natural after a while. He ran his fingertips across his cheek, grazing over all the spots she'd touched with her lips earlier, reliving the feeling. 

His fingertips ghosted his jawline, moving down his neck to his protruding collarbone, unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt, all the while imagining it was her touch and not his own. 

It was difficult for him to mimic her gentleness, their hands were so different. His— boney, cold, and dry, with the nails bitten down to the quick. Hers— soft, tiny, warm, inviting, adorned with silver rings, perfectly manicured, and decorated with dark polish. But it was enough in the moment. He knew what the real thing felt like and his imagination had always been pretty powerful anyway. 

He felt himself stiffen in his pants and he took another long drag off his cigarette, letting the ashes fall on the couch, riding the high he was on and moving his hand lower, palming himself through his trousers. He unintentionally let out a sigh and wondered what that tiny voice of hers might sound like in the throes of ecstasy, what exactly he might do to her to elicit those noises. 

Unable to stop himself, his hand dipped under the waistband of his pants and then his briefs, stroking himself fully. He closed his eyes, cigarette dangling out of his mouth, still imagining it was _her_ hand, imagining kissing her while she fondled him, the fantasy becoming so real he could taste her again. He let out a whimper, finishing his cigarette and turning up the TV slightly just in case. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well that escalated quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised smut and I'm here to deliver.

Arthur attempted to wipe some of the blood from his nose with the back of his hand before knocking on the door. He heard movement inside and after what seemed like an eternity, it finally opened.

"_Arthur?! Oh my god, are you okay? What hap—?!_" 

Before she could finish he bent over slightly, cupping her face in both hands, pressing red painted lips to hers. He was covered in bruises, not to mention sweat, blood, and clown makeup but she backed up and welcomed him in with open arms, kicking the door shut behind them as he pushed his way inside. 

She kissed him back, not put off in the slightest by his disheveled state or how unusually rough and forward he was being. When they broke the kiss she immediately asked again if he was alright. 

"Never been better," he said before backing her up against the wall, kissing her neck hungrily and smudging his makeup all over them both in the process. The paint tasted metallic, or maybe that was just from all the blood. 

_She's scared of me_, he thought, never taking his eyes from hers, but then she grabbed his tie and pulled him up against her with equal force, into another kiss.

He'd been hard since he shot those guys on the subway. It was an involuntary response of course, but it hadn't gone away and he could tell by the way she wrapped a leg around him that she had taken notice, and didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, she seemed to be enjoying it. They were both breathing heavily. 

He hooked his arms around her, picking her up and placing her on the nearby kitchen table, knocking some kitschy salt and pepper shakers over in the process. His hands lingered on her thighs for a moment, feeling the texture of her fishnet stockings. She unwound her arms from around his neck and pulled him closer by his belt buckle as she quickly undid it. 

He lifted a hand to her face again as he leaned toward her, their foreheads eventually touching. Their hands were all over each other, hers was more an attempt to remove layers of clothing (his vest, suspenders, and pants were all she could manage) but Arthur was taking his time to explore every inch of her he could get his hands on. One hand fondled her breast while the other slid under her skirt, all the while he sucked at her neck and collarbone, leaving little splotches of colored paint among the hickies.

He knew what he was doing only in theory and not in practice, but the noises she made only encouraged him, especially when mid-kiss she moaned into his mouth. He rubbed at her through her underwear and she bucked into his hand.

"_Mmmnn...Arthur_," 

He felt his cock involuntarily twitch at the way she said his name and let out a moan himself. His eyes were closed but he felt her smirk against him, gasping out his name again as she reached into his briefs, stroking him just like he'd fantasized about before, only _better_. He let out soft noises of approval which she met with pleased noises of her own as he hooked his fingers under the elastic and let her underwear fall to the floor.

His fingers parted her easily with how wet she already was. She gasped at his touch and he was almost too focused to hear her.

"_Arthur_."

The way she said it this time was more... _demanding_. He opened his eyes to finally look at her again, hoping he wouldn't become too overwhelmed. The last thing he wanted was to have a fit right now, but it was starting to feel like Too Much at once. But the look on her face calmed him. He'd never had anyone look at him like that before. 

She gave him a small kiss of reassurance before lining herself up with his cock and he had to close his eyes again as she pulled him into her, both of them groaning. She took the lead, guiding him into a rhythm that felt good to them both, her legs wrapped around his waist as he hunched over her, forearms resting on the table, the salt and pepper shakers rattling against each other with every thrust.

Her fingers tangled in his hair that was still damp with sweat and he felt her tighten around him, letting out the sweetest noises he'd ever heard— a combination of gibberish and words of affirmation with soft moans and gasps in between, though he thought he could make out at least one phase:

"_I love you_," 

and that was all he needed to send him over the edge. He pulled out just in time to come with a guttural groan— all over the side of her leg. He was immediately apologetic but she smiled and kissed him sweetly, grabbing a kitchen towel to clean up. 

\---

"You really did a number on me," she joked, talking to him from the bathroom where she was in front of the mirror, wiping off stray marks and tidying herself up. 

He was sitting on the couch, pants pulled up but not buttoned, having a cigarette and still looking like a wreck. She came over with a damp washcloth and started removing his clown paint for him, being careful not to aggravate any cuts and bruises. He was too worn out to protest.

"What happened, Arthur?" She untied his tie, throwing it in the same spot his vest had ended up, running her fingers over the spots of blood on his shirt. He just stared blankly ahead, an exhausted look on his face. "I just. Worry about you sometimes," she had decided not to push it. 

"I know," he replied. "But I don't think you'll need to worry much anymore." He smiled to himself but she had no idea what he meant by that.


End file.
